Still Fighting
by morgana07
Summary: 1-shot. After making a decision about the Mark, Dean goes to grab dinner only to return to find a situation that reminds him that he was still fighting for something after all. *Hurt/limp/strangled!Sam & Angry/worried/big brother!Dean* Mild Spoilers!


**Still Fighting**

**Summary: **_1-shot. After making a decision about the Mark, Dean goes to grab dinner only to return to find a situation that reminds him that he was still fighting for something after all. *Hurt/limp/strangled!Sam &amp; Angry/worried/big brother!Dean* Mild Spoilers!_

**Warnings: **_Minor language, violence and some minor spoilers._

**Tags/Spoilers: **_While not much, there may be some spoilers and while I'm not sure I'd call this a direct tag it does take place after the end of 10x13 Halt &amp; Catch Fire._

**Disclaimer: **_I own nothing._

**Beta: **_Jenjoremy_

**Author note: **_My wonderful beta, Jenjoremy wanted to see some hurt or strangled Sam so the muse likes to keep her happy. This takes place after the end of the 10x13 Halt and Catch Fire and may have some spoilers as is does mention a couple things so beaware of this before reading. Thanks!_

**SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN**

"I'm going to grab dinner! You want anything specific or just your usual?"

Sam Winchester stuck his head out of the bathroom to see his older brother grabbing the keys from the table. "Whatever you bring back is fine," he replied since he wasn't very hungry that night.

In truth, Sam didn't think he'd have much of an appetite until he could fully process Dean's words in the Impala earlier that day.

"Sammy, don't brood all night. I swear I'm not gonna go crazy and I'm not going to go all mopey either." Dean paused at the door, instinctively knowing what his little brother was thinking about. "I'm just done letting the search for a cure to this mark rule my life when we could be out there doing what we've always done. Okay?"

"Yeah, okay," Sam muttered, but he still had his doubts.

The Mark of Cain wasn't something that could just be ignored and both Winchesters knew it. He knew the odds of Dean's control slipping again was high and Sam just didn't want to run the risk of losing his brother in any way again so he would still try to keep digging…in between cases. He did have to admit that it was nice seeing Dean acting like himself again, eating like a teenager and ogling college girls.

Sam finished showering and was just settling on his bed with his laptop when he heard a soft knock on the door – a knock that was definitely not his brother.

Setting the laptop aside, he reached for his pistol out of a caution born long ago of having an ex-Marine for a father and a brother who'd made certain to teach Sam all he knew. Sam was cautious when he looked out the peephole in the door before opening it, keeping the gun out of sight.

"Hello?" he greeted slowly, looking at a young girl who appeared to be the same age as the girl they'd just left in Spencer, Iowa. "Can I help you?"

The girl looked normal and harmless, but Sam knew only too well that there were many things out there that could look human but still be dangerous. She wore a simple blue sweathshirt and jeans, and her long blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail. Her blue eyes looked up at him with relief and some surprise. "Hi! I'm sorry to bother you but you were the only one to actually open a door when I knocked." She giggled nervously as if Sam's 6'4" height intimidated her a little. "My car broke down just over there and I know nothing about engines or things like that and I know I should since a girl driving alone with a baby should always make sure her car is in good shape but I was hoping to make it to my friend's tonight and so I just ignored the weird noise and…I'm babbling…sorry." She blushed a little as Sam noiselessly placed his pistol on the table before stepping out the door. "Can…can you maybe look at it or something?"

Sam probably didn't know much more about car engines than the girl did, but Dean had taught him a few things over the years. He would at least be able to tell if she had run out of gas or had a flat tire. Otherwise, he could suggest that she wait for Dean because he would probably be able to diagnose the problem. He nodded and followed her across the poorly lit parking lot.

He was being cautious, making sure he kept her in sight because even innocent looking girls could be monsters, but when he heard the crying baby in the parked car, he let his guard down a bit more.

When they reached the car, Sam asked her to pop the hood of the small two-door Chevy. It had definitely seen better days and Sam knew the car's condition would break Dean's heart. He told her to try to start it and then frowned. "Sounds like it needs gas. Did your gauge say you were running low?"

"Oh, it hasn't worked for a few months," she replied, standing close to the side of the car as the cries of the baby seemed to get louder. "I thought I could make it on what was in the tank…I don't even know how to check it. My boyfriend usually takes care of that for me."

Sam moved toward the side of the car where the gas cap was located. "Do you carry any spare gas with you?" He wasn't sure if they had any in the Impala after burning the pick-up the other night.

The baby continued to cry and something about the sound began to set off warning bells in his head. He glanced into the backseat as he leaned over to open the cap and suddenly realized he'd let his soft heart get the better of him…again.

He was just starting to turn to face the girl when suddenly his head bounced off the roof of the car with enough force to stun him. His attacker took advantage of Sam's momentary disorientation to get something wrapped tightly around his throat.

Sam started to fight back but the surprise blow to his head and the sudden lack of oxygen had him at an immediate disadvantage. He attacker was obviously a lot stronger than the skinny blond girl, which told him that he was dealing with at least two individuals. He was mustering his strength to rear back against his assailant when his head hit metal again. Suddenly he was fighting not for freedom but to stay conscious.

"Quick! Grab his damn wallet and keycard!" a sharp deep voice snapped. "Go open the motel room while I drag his big ass back there before anyone sees us. We need to grab what we can and split! And for Christ's sake, shut that damn doll off before someone calls the cops on us!"

Sam was furious at himself for falling for such a basic and stupid trap. A pretty girl, helpless in the face of car trouble, with a baby in the backseat asks a guy for help. When the sap…target, Sam's barely conscious mind corrected though he knew Dean would be saying sap soon enough, went to help the girl's partner would jump out and overpower the guy and rob him. It was one of the easiest cons in the world and his brother was never going to let him hear the end of it.

Normally Sam could have handled a surprise attack, but the blow to his head followed by the rope around his neck had him disoriented enough to make resistance impossible as he was dragged back into his motel room.

"Hurry up! I saw some other guy leave in a car so he'll probably be back soon and…oh hell, Freddy! This dude's a fed!" The girl had been sifting through the pockets of Sam's jacket and found the fake FBI badge.

"Shit!" The guy cursed violently and let Sam drop to the floor. The rope loosened enough for Sam to suck in a desperate breath, but before his head could even begin to clear, but guy rolled him to his stomach and cuffed his hands tightly behind his back. His attacker was obviously more angry than upset about the news which told Sam that he was a long-time pro at this game. "Just grab his phone and laptop. We can pawn them for some fast cash before he reports them stolen. I've got his wallet, and there's cash and credit cards in it. I'm gonna tie this guy up. Go start the car!"

Sam's oxygen-starved brain was still struggling to come back online, and then a heavy fist to his face sent him back into a fog as he was yanked to his knees by his cuffed hands.

"Kelli's a sweet kid, but God, she's dumb as dirt. You ain't no fed but even if you were, I ain't worried about you calling anyone." The guy's voice was gruff as he dragged a weakly struggling Sam across the room and into the bathroom. "She's just my bait for saps like you. Cute ain't she? She thinks I tie the fools up after we rob 'em…and I do. She just don't know that I'm gonna tie you up by your damn neck. By the time anyone finds you, you'll be dead…and by then, we'll be long gone, hot shot. It don't pay to be nice anymore. Didn't your daddy ever teach you that?"

By the time Sam could process what was happening, it was too late. He felt the rope loop around his neck two more times before snapping taunt. As he focused his blurry eyes, he realized with horror that it was being hooked over the steel shower rod in the bathroom. When the guy kicked his tied ankles out from under him, his knees didn't quite brush the bottom of the tub. As the rope tightened even further, Sam knew he was in trouble.

"If you struggle to get those long legs under you, you'll end up strangling yourself a lot faster. Thanks for the cash and laptop, 'Agent'." The guy let out a laugh as he gave another hard punch to Sam's gut, forcing him to expel what little air he had left. Sam heard a terrible whistling wheeze and realized with horror that the sound was him gasping for air that was refusing to come. He tugged fruitlessly on the cuffs, but they were securely attached and he knew he'd never get his hands loose in time to save himself. As a final desperate measure, he arched his neck back, but it didn't ease the tension on the rope at all and slowly, the room started to fade away. His last conscious thought was of his brother; he hoped his death didn't push Dean over the edge into the darkness he was fighting.

By the time Dean Winchester made it back to the motel, he was tired, frustrated, and quite certain he would never try to buy Sam anything special again.

Because he knew his brother was still brooding over his decision to stop looking for a cure for the Mark of Cain, and because he knew a brooding little brother never ate well, Dean had decided to brave an actual restaurant for real food instead of burgers or pizza like he'd originally planned. The grilled chicken with mixed vegetables and rice and his burger and fries combination took almost 30 minutes to make an appearance. He wasn't able to call Sam about the delay since he'd smashed his phone while trying to stop the vengeful spirit. He made a mental note to replace it first thing in the morning.

He pulled into a parking space right in front of their room, reaching over to grab the food bags. As he moved toward the room, Dean's hunter senses went on high alert and he paused in mid-stride. The first thing he noticed was that the door was slightly ajar; then he noticed the broken salt line. He shifted the bags to his left hand and pulled out his weapon out, but as he nudged open the door, he let the food drop to the floor. He noticed Sam's gun on the table behind the door, but his little brother was nowhere in sight.

"What the hell? Sam?" Dean's eyes scanned the room. Their duffle bags were still in the corner but Sam's laptop was not on the table or on the bed. Dean looked at the closed bathroom door and his gut twisted when he didn't hear a single sound from the other side. "Sam? Sam! What the…_Sonuvabitch_! Sammy!"

Dean shoved his weapon into the back of his jeans and bolted into the bathroom, almost unable to process what he was seeing. His younger brother was hanging, literally hanging, by a thick rope that was attached to the apparently solid shower rod. His hands were cuffed behind him and his ankles were bound with duct tape. He was in a kneeling position although Dean could see that Sam's knees didn't quite reach the shower floor. There was an additional piece of tape over his mouth to muffle any possible sounds Sam might have been able to make before he'd lost consciousness. Even with his shockingly pale face, Dean firmly told himself that Sam was only unconscious.

It seemed like an eternity passed, but it was only a second before he had his arms around Sam's chest, lifting him to try to relieve the tension on the rope. Dean didn't let himself notice that the chest wasn't moving.

"Hey! Sammy! Hey, c'mon and work with me here, little brother." Dean fumbled for his knife while trying to lift Sam higher, but the rope didn't seem to be loosening at all. "C'mon kiddo…someone is dying for this but it sure as hell ain't gonna be you, Sammy. Hang on…crap…ignore that."

Sam was unconscious and Dean tried not to think of the term "dead weight" as he struggled to cut the rope without losing his grip on his brother. He realized that Sam must have been struggling for air for a long time and once again cursed his delay in getting food.

The knife finally cut through the rope and then Dean had to react quickly to catch Sam as he dropped. He tossed the knife aside and tipped Sam over his shoulder, moving back into the room to put him on the bed. It was another few heartstopping moments before he could work his fingers under the damn rope and begin to unwrap it from around his brother's throat. He winced at the deep welts that were clearly visible as he pressed shaking fingers to the side of Sam's neck looking for a pulse. He held his own breath until he felt the slow, sluggish beat. Sam's chest, however, was completely still.

"Sam? Sammy?" He called out, shaking his brother gently and worrying that maybe Sam had been without air for too long. As Dean jerked the tape from Sam's mouth, he was rewarded with a faint gasp followed by a slightly deeper inhale. He scowled at the bruises and dried blood he saw, which told him that someone liked to punch a guy who was tied up and probably already half unconscious. He brushed back Sam's hair…and his hand was absolutely not shaking anymore, and felt a lump right as his hairline. That, along with the trickle of blood down his forehead, gave Dean hope that perhaps the lack of air wasn't the only reason Sam was still unconscious.

Dean retrieved a wet washcloth from the bathroom and used it to wipe over Sam's face, clearing away the dried blood and sweat. He kept his other hand flat over his brother's chest, comforted by the now steady rise and fall even if the breaths were a lot slower and shallower than he liked. At least his chest was moving which told him that Sam was breathing; he was probably still unconscious from either the lack of air or the blow to his head.

Every ounce of Dean wanted to storm the manager's office and demand the security tapes of the parking lot to see who the hell had been skulking around and who might've jumped his brother, but he wasn't going to risk leaving Sam until he regained consciousness. He did make a quick dash to the ice machine since it was just two doors down and he knew he needed to get ice on Sam's neck before it started to swell and compromised his breathing again.

He wrapped the bag of ice in a soft t-shirt and gently placed it across his brother's abused throat. Sam shifted slightly, the first sign of movement he'd given since Dean burst into the bathroom, but his eyes didn't open. Dean sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. "C'mon, Sammy," he cajoled, brushing back the long hair again. "You know I'm gonna haul your unconscious ass to the hospital if you don't give me something soon."

A glance around the room confirmed that Sam's laptop and phone were gone and a bit of deeper searching revealed a missing wallet as well. Dean knew he was going to get those things back, but his need to make sure Sam was okay overrode his need for revenge.

Just when he was getting ready to call the office to ask about the nearest hospital, Dean saw lashes fluttering and heard a pained exhale. He saw Sam's hand curl into a fist and was quick to grab it. "Sammy!" He made sure his voice was deep enough and sharp enough to penetrate his brother's returning consciousness and reassure him that he was safe. "It's me. You're going to be okay."

Sam's eyes snapped open at the sharp voice only to slam back shut when his head started to pound and threatened to fall off his shoulders. He tried to inhale, but his throat felt swollen and he started to panic as he fought to breathe, flashing back to his last moments in the bathroom.

"Calm down. Sam! Calm down and just take shallow breaths for me…that's right…in….now out…through your nose if you can…there you go…slow and steady." Dean kept his voice calm even though he was freaking out internally as Sam struggled for air. He knew Sam's neck was badly bruised and breathing would be difficult for a few hours…maybe a few days. He watched Sam's mouth open and close a couple of times. "Nope, kiddo. That rope did a number on your throat, so don't even try to talk yet…yeah, I get some peace and quiet for a day or two." He adjusted the ice pack and continued to murmur reassuring words to keep Sam calm and quiet.

Sam sank deeper into the pillows as he realized that Dean was with him; his brother must have come back in time to find him. The younger Winchester lay still, trying to draw air deeper into his starving lungs. He wanted to tell Dean what happened, but he knew Dean was right about trying to talk. As the burning in his lungs started to ease, he relaxed and let his eyes fall closed again.

Dean waited long enough to make sure Sam would keep breathing; he knew the ice would prevent any further swelling so he was confident that Sam was out of immediate danger. He dumped the half melted ice and made a quick trip to the machine for a refill. He made sure the ice pack was stable, and Sam was comfortable. "Stay put. I'll be right back."

Sam wanted to argue, but since he couldn't even open his eyes without the room spinning, he simply gave a small nod. He heard Dean leave the room and figured his brother was about to go play pissed off fed with the motel manager.

It didn't take long for Dean to convince the manager to get out of bed and review the parking lot tapes with him after explaining to him that his partner had been attacked and nearly hung in the bathroom. The camera only covered a small portion of the parking lot, but it gave Dean the information he needed. He saw Sam walking slightly behind a petite, young girl and he assumed she was having some sort of car trouble. They were both visible for several seconds before leaving the range of the camera.

The actual attack wasn't caught, but the camera did show his brother being dragged back across the lot by a rope around his neck. Dean paused the tape and memorized the features of the asshole in the cowboy hat.

The manager offered to call both the police and an ambulance, but Dean reassured him that everything was already being handled. He planned to handle it just as soon as he checked on Sam.

Sam was sitting up when he got back to the room but still looking too pale for Dean's liking. "Was your phone on when they took it?" he asked, powering up an old phone he had grabbed from the Impala's glove compartment.

"… …Yeah," Sam managed to rasp out with a wince of pain; his voice was nothing more than a hoarse croak. "De'n, I'm…"

"No, don't. You didn't do anything wrong." Dean knew his brother had actually made a pretty serious error in judgment; after all, it had been an easy to spot trap. Right now, however, his little brother was hurting and Dean wasn't going to give him grief about letting his soft heart outweigh his hunter instincts. "This could've happened to anyone. Now you're going to stay here…in bed…with ice on your throat…and I'm going to go handle this."

"No…gonna…go…" Sam tried to stand but the second he did he began to cough, pain flaring in his damaged throat, as his chest and lungs reminded him that they needed more time to recover. He fell back onto the bed with a soft groan. "Damn."

Dean checked the clip in his weapon as the GPS on his phone pinged. "Sammy, I've got this." His voice was quiet, but determined. His tone reminded Sam of when he'd been a teenager and Dean would be getting to "handle" some issue he was having at a school. "When I said I was done fighting, I meant fighting 24 hours a day to find a cure for this demonic tattoo. I never said I was done fighting. I'm still fighting in general, little brother," he said as he reached for his jacket and the Impala's keys. "And the one thing that I will always fight for is you. Now rest up. I'll be back as soon as I finish reminding some unlucky son of a bitch that trying to strangle my little brother is not a smart thing to do when I'm in a good mood. It's friggin' suicide when I'm in this mood."

Sam knew he should be concerned about Dean losing control again but he honestly didn't have the strength to worry right then. He was already half asleep, ice tucked around his neck, when he heard the Impala start up and the tires spin out in the parking lot.

The GPS signal led Dean to a small motel only a few miles away and he sneered that the stupid assholes hadn't even been smart enough to put more distance between themselves and their latest victim.

It didn't take much to find out which room belonged to his cowboy. The late night manager wasn't interested in seeing if Dean's threat to punch his throat was a bluff and he quickly gave up the room number.

The car in front of the room was a run down Chevy and Dean frowned at the carseat in the back. There was some type of doll in the carseat and Dean suddenly knew what had lured his little brother into the parking lot. He might have kept his guard up against a pretty, young girl, but a crying baby? That would have pulled at Sam's heartstrings. Dean hated to see his brother's heart used more than it already had been over the years.

Pulling his weapon after a quick look showed him no one was around, he gave the cheap looking door a swift kick. Dean heard a girl scream but he was already using the handle of the pistol to slam it into the jaw of the man who'd been lunging at the door.

"Don't you move!" the hunter snapped, breathing hard. Being this close to the asshole who had strung Sam up to strangle to death was making the mark on his arm burn like fire.

The girl was young and already starting to cry, but the guy was older and angry so Dean immediately knew which one to focus on. "You sorry sons of bitches jumped my brother tonight. You left him hanging by a rope over the shower rod to die!" he snarled, hearing a gasp while the guy continued to glared at him. "I bet perky Barbie here didn't know that's how you left the people you rob, did she?" Dean smirked. "I bet you told her you just left them tied up and they'd be fine as soon as someone found them. Sweetheart, your boyfriend here was tying them up all right, but by their necks and hanging them in the damn shower. My brother almost died tonight. I want what you took from him, now!"

"He…I…I didn't know that's what he did, mister!" the girl said from where she stood across the room. "He said he…"

"Shut the hell up!" the man shouted, glaring at Dean as he located Sam's phone, laptop, and wallet. "Gonna call the cops on me?" he sneered. "I know you won't since that punk's badge is…ugh!" He grunted as Dean kicked him hard in the ribs before jerking him up by his throat and slamming him against the wall.

"I should since I figure there's probably a string of unsolved murders along the highways thanks to you, but I don't have the time to deal with the paperwork or questions." Dean started to step back only to swiftly bring his knee up to hit the man in the gut while jabbing the barrel of his pistol under his jaw. "Of course I didn't say you were walking away that easy…no one hurts my brother without me ripping out a vital organ or three."

The mark seared and Dean could feel and smell blood. He could feel the mark screaming for violence as his hand started to tremble. So much of him wanted to give into that feeling but as he slammed his pistol into the man's face repeatedly while squeezing his throat tightly, another feeling hit him and he could almost feel Sam's eyes watching him.

Sam had said he could fight this need to hurt, the need to give in to the mark. His brother believed in his ability to fight back the desire for violence. Sammy believed in him even after all the crap that had nearly torn them apart, so with a muttered curse, Dean gave a final hard punch before stepping back, allowing the man to slide bonelessly to the floor.

"I'm walking out here and you both are still sucking air," he growled, glaring at the piece of shit on the floor and then the wide-eyed girl. "I'm not sure how big your part in his scheme is, but if you're smart, you'll take that crap car and get as far away from him as you can. Because his games and cons will one day get you killed or jailed."

Dean grabbed the stuff he'd come for and stared at the bleeding man on the floor. "Make no mistake, if I see either of you again, I'll finish this…and if you ever come close to my brother again, I will end you."

Dean was shaking by the time he got to the Impala but he pushed back the needs burning in him. He would prove to himself and to Sam that he could resist the mark; he would not become that man again. He was a hunter but right then Dean was a brother, and he wanted to get back to Sam and get him the hell out of this area.

Sam was awake and trying to sip ice water when Dean got back. He looked up quickly as his brother entered the room. A single look told him that a fight had happened but Dean wasn't covered in blood; he didn't look raw or on edge; in short, he didn't look like a man who had lost control.

"No, I didn't go all Psycho on their asses even though I wanted to," Dean said, tossing the items on the bed and sitting down with a shaky sigh. "It won't be easy but I will fight this mark, Sam. I will fight it and like I said, if I lose, then I'll go down swinging."

Sam wouldn't give up looking for a cure but he also wouldn't give up the faith he had in his brother's ability to beat this. He picked up his phone, but after a quick inspection, he placed it back on the bed and rubbed his throat carefully. "…Thanks, De'n," he managed to get out in a voice that would be painfully rough for a few more days.

"That's what big brothers do, Sammy," Dean returned. He could see the vivid welts and bruises blooming on Sam's throat; one was raw and seeping, so he'd have to dress it. He thought about how close he'd come to actually losing Sam this time…if he'd been even five minutes longer…He couldn't even finish the thought. "We will beat this," he murmured, echoing the words Sam had spoken to him before pulling Sam in for a hug. He let it linger a little longer than normal, knowing he could get away with it since Sam was hurt and still spacey from a lack of air.

"… Damn…straight," Sam whispered; he would believe that until he couldn't any longer. He eased back after a couple of moments to see Dean's eyes were on his throat. He knew that for at least the next few days, Dean would be focused on playing big brother. If that's what it took to distract his brother from the mark, than Sam would work with it… and he promised himself to make sure Dean did keep fighting no matter what came for them next.

**The End**


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